


The Valkyrie

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-17
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:18:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Clearly you don’t know too many women Hotch…that is going to take hours.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Valkyrie

Hotch had barely cleared the door when his doorbell rang. He had time to throw his keys over on the kitchen table and was about to pour his drink when the sound of the chime interrupted him. He did not often have visitors. He had upstairs neighbors, Tiffany and Michelle. They were pretty, vibrant girls who were grad students at American University and had their share of raucous parties.

Once in a while they came down to borrow something like a screwdriver or an egg. Once or twice they asked Hotch for his help lifting something or some other man-like feat, as Michelle called them. Those visits were few and far between though. Anyway, it was a Friday evening after seven; surely they were out on dates or otherwise occupied.

When he looked out the peephole, he was surprised to see someone familiar standing on his porch. Hotch opened the door and looked into the face of Emily Prentiss. It took concentration to focus on her face instead of her body. She was dressed in snug dark blue jeans and a red v-neck tee shirt that left just the slightest hint of her torso exposed. Her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, bangs blown by the warm early summer breeze.

“Prentiss, what are you doing here?” Hotch asked.

“I was really starting to fear you were going to stay there all night.” She said.

“Where?”

“Quantico. Can I come in?”

“Were you following me?”

He let her in; it was strange to have a conversation on his front porch. None of his agents, except Rossi, had ever been to his home. It probably wouldn’t have been hard for her to get the address but to show up there. What was going on?

“I wasn’t following you; I was waiting for you. Get changed.”

“I'm sorry?” Hotch raised his eyebrow slightly.

“Get changed. I mean, we can go out in that if you insist but it’s a little silly.”

Hotch was wearing a suit…he was always wearing a suit. It was charcoal grey with a white dress shirt and a royal blue tie. His shoes were shining and no hair on his head was out of place, save the uncontrollable cowlick that always haunted him.

“What should I change into?” he didn’t know where his voice came from and surely didn’t know why that question came out. Of all the ones he could have asked…

“Something casual and comfortable, jeans and a tee shirt will do. Put on comfortable shoes as well.”

“OK, now I…”

“Don’t,” Emily shook her head. “Just follow your gut, Hotch.”

He nodded, sighing. Then he closed his front door and waved toward the living room.

“Have a seat and I’ll be right back. Make yourself a drink if you'd like.”

“I'm driving.”

“There is some really good raspberry iced tea in the fridge.”

Emily watched Hotch go into his bedroom and close the door. She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was so obvious that a single man, could Hotch be called single, lived there. It was sparse, something in Tupperware, some drinks, condiments, and baking soda in the back. Emily grabbed the half gallon of tea and closed the door. She guessed which cabinet the glasses would be in, the one right next to the sink, based on her knowledge of Hotch and his efficiency. She poured herself a half-glass and put the tea back.

This was her chance to see another side of him. She walked into the living room, as sparse as the kitchen minus the signs of a child. There was a random teddy bear and some green army men on the floor by the television. A toddler sized chair and a beanbag occupied one corner, two bikes leaned on the closet door. Hotch had a nice assortment of liquor on a lovely oak table with three drawers. Emily resisted going through them.

There was black and white photography on the walls and family photos on the mantelpiece. Signs of Haley were nowhere in the room. Not that they should have been but Emily could never be sure. The furniture was efficient yet slightly uncomfortable and certainly underused. There was no specific color scheme but blue and grey turned up the most. The walls were whitewashed; Emily wanted to rush to Home Depot and get some color for this place. Hotch may not have spent a lot of time here but it was home. It should feel that way.

She let her mind wander to lazy Saturdays spent on the couch watching movies with his son. She thought about breakfast being made in the kitchen together or games of hide and seek where no place in the house was off-limits. She thought of forts made of sheets and pillows on rainy days and sitting out on the porch when it was sunny. Emily couldn’t see Hotch’s face in these thoughts. It was another man, one who looked similar but wasn’t quite him.

Hotch was always in his office, on the jet, or at a crime scene. He didn’t own sweats or bake cookies. He didn’t laugh at Wile E. Coyote or sometimes trip over his own feet. He damn sure didn’t forget to pick up his boxers or leave the cap off the toothpaste. That was what regular people did…Hotch was not regular.

There was no secret stash of porn or a dirty habit that he kept only to himself. Was there? Surely he was not inhuman; Emily saw the softer side of him once or twice. But he always treated it like a sign of weakness, which it perhaps could be in the field. He was surely empathetic and could even be called tender at times. She knew he could laugh, raucously if all the ingredients were there. He held his liquor well and never put his hands in inappropriate places.

“I gave you sufficient time to go over the place with a fine-toothed comb.” Hotch said.

His voice in the room startled Emily but she was sure not to let it show. She turned to look at him, smiling her approval of his outfit. Damn that man could dress down. Jeans and a blue Polo shirt never looked so good. He looked more relaxed; handsome enough to model those clothes in a magazine.

“Clearly you don’t know that many women, Hotch…that is going to take hours.”

He smiled then, walking across the room to stand closer to her.

“Alright, I've changed my clothes. Now what?”

Emily finished her iced tea, it was delicious, and took his hand. He seemed surprised by the gesture and when he squeezed gently it was almost a reflex. She put the glass in the sink, grabbed his house keys, and in a matter of moments they were outside on the porch.

“I have a question?” she asked.

“Alright.”

“Are you wearing a piece on your ankle and carrying your FBI ID?”

“Always.” He replied. “Why?”

“Just wondering how much Hotch I had with me tonight. C'mon.”

“I…” he didn’t quite know what to say as they walked down the steps and across the street.

How much Hotch? What did that mean? What did any of this mean? Emily Prentiss just showing up in the middle of the evening at his home made no sense. Yet turning back, going inside, closing the door and doing the same old thing he always did…it didn’t seem like a possibility. It didn’t seem right. She was there for a reason. He didn’t know what it was but the warmth of her hand in his was enough to make the millions of questions dissipate.

“Safety first.” Emily said, handing him the helmet.

“Are you serious?” Hotch looked at the bike with a raised eyebrow. Then he looked at Emily, the helmet, and back at the bike.

“You're not getting on without it.” She said.

“I don’t know if I'm getting on.”

“Have you ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle, Hotch?”

“No.” he shook his head.

“Then put the helmet on and enjoy the ride.”

“These machines can be dangerous.”

Emily had been riding for a long time, having first become obsessed with dirt bikes when she was 14 in West Germany. Her love grew from there and she purchased her first motorcycle Cambridge while getting her Masters at Harvard. She loved riding through the streets, the wind moving over her skin like a lover. It was a liberating feeling and she wanted, needed, to share it with him.

“Do you have your Class M driver’s license, Agent Prentiss?” Hotch asked.

Emily took her wallet out of her jeans pocket and showed it to him. He examined it thoroughly before giving a solemn nod. Hotch took the helmet and put it on his head.

“Lift the visor; you're going to love the view.”

He did as she said, watching Emily put on her own helmet and climb on the bike. He could not help but smile watching her straddle it. Women and powerful machines…yeah, it was a turn on. He had no idea that Emily could ride a motorcycle. There were actually so many things he didn’t know about Emily Prentiss. Almost three years she had been on his team and it seemed as if Hotch purposely did his best not to get too close to her.

She was so damn good at her job and he saw the human, beautiful side of Prentiss almost from the beginning of their time together. Still, he could not find a way to get past the disconnect he felt. He tried, Hotch never wanted any of his team to feel as if they were outsiders, but something was off with Prentiss. Prentiss, that was it exactly.

Thinking about it he was sure he uttered her God-given name maybe once or twice. Sure, Morgan was Morgan, Rossi was Rossi, and Reid was Reid, but he could and had used their names before. He spoke to them as people and not just Agents. He knew things about them; favorite drinks, things that made them laugh, secrets and confidences…but Prentiss always remained Prentiss.

“Get on, cowboy.”

“What kind of bike is this?” Hotch straddled the machine, unsure what to do with his hands.

“It’s a 1998 Honda Valkyrie F6C. Hold onto me, but not too tight.”

“Don’t drive too fast.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t like the sound of that Prentiss.”

She laughed a little as the engine revved. Hotch gripped a bit tighter and hoped this wasn’t his first and last chance at adventure. He closed his eyes as the motorcycle started to move. Emily wanted him to lift his visor to enjoy the view and the fool had his eyes closed. She actually controlled the machine well and after about 15 minutes of contemplating them both as road kill, Hotch loosened up. He opened his eyes and watched trees, statues, and street signs fly by. He didn’t know how fast they were going but the breeze felt good on his arms and the nape of his neck.

He knew almost immediately they were heading toward Alexandria. Traffic was heavy; it always was on Friday evenings. It was about a 25 minute ride with the traffic but Emily was heading around the corner on Constitution Avenue; she was probably going to take what locals referred to as the back way. It was a little longer, maybe a half hour or so, but it was worth the smooth ride Hotch was experiencing right now. He felt relaxed and could tell Emily was behind the wheel. Emily Prentiss rode a motorcycle…damn, wonders never ceased.

The motorcycle came to a complete stop across the street from a coffee house. The streets around them were bustling, no surprise, and Hotch wasn’t sure he could get his legs to stop quivering so he could stand. Emily kicked down the kickstand, dismounting the bike. She pulled off her helmet and looked at her Unit Chief.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I think I survived.” He pulled off his own helmet and handed it to her. With a deep breath, he got off the bike and stood next to her.

“Good, because the night has just begun. Let’s go; we’re already running a little late. I don’t know why I didn’t account for it taking a little extra time at your place.”

His hand was in hers again, running across the street and into the coffee house. It was crowded but when an older man saw Emily, he smiled.

“I saved you a table.” He said. “I was giving you until 8:15; you know how it is on Fridays.”

“I do, and I really appreciate it Jules. This is my friend Aaron, by the way.”

“Good to meet you.” Jules shook Hotch’s hand. “Any friend of Emily’s is certainly a friend of mine.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll get you two some menus.”

“Thanks.”

They sat at their table and Hotch looked at her.

“I've never been to this place.” He said.

“Jules has owned it forever. I discovered it in my junior year at Yale and whenever I came home after that Nat and I would always come here and just unwind. I know, the idea of drinking too much coffee and unwinding is a bit strange but I never claimed to be normal, Agent Hotchner.”

“So noted.” Hotch smiled at the server who brought them water and menus. A young woman walked out on the small stage and people started to clap. She had a stool and an acoustic guitar; he wondered what she planned to sing about.

“You are in for a treat,” Emily told him. “Katrine never disappoints.”

***

Emily was right about the singer. Her name was Katrine Sandberg and while Hotch ate a turkey meatloaf sandwich and sipped blackberry tea, he lost himself in her amazing singing voice. She sang so many different songs, a hauntingly beautiful _Fire and Rain_ and a sensual _You Bring Me Joy_. Just her and the acoustic guitar; she mesmerized the entire audience.

“Do you come and see her often?” Hotch asked. Katrine was on her 15 minute break in her 60 minute set.

“I follow her around.” Emily replied. “Kinda like a groupie. She is mostly a cover artist but she does have some original tunes. I have three of her cover EPs…I play them when it gets tough.”

“When what gets tough?”

“Everything. They are a savior when we are out in the field.”

“I bet.”

“Do you have an iPod Hotch, I would be happy to put you on to some music? I mean if you want to.”

“That sounds nice. I really like her voice. I like this place.”

The atmosphere was calm. Even with all of the conversation, tones were still hushed and it didn’t ruin the serenity of the room. The lighting, the smells; everything was created for relaxation. All this under the guise of a little coffeehouse. Hotch wondered if it was like this all the time or just on Friday nights. Maybe he would have to come back again to see for himself.

“Would you like some dessert?” Emily asked. “I am craving for chocolate cake…don’t make a girl eat alone.”

“I would never.”

Emily smiled, flagging their server when she walked into her field of vision.

“Would you like dessert?” she greeted them with a smile.

“Kate, right?” Hotch asked.

“Yes sir.”

“We are going to have a slice of double chocolate cake, extra whipped cream, and two cups of coffee.”

“Regular or decaf?”

“Regular thank you.”

She nodded, walking away. Emily looked at him and smiled.

“Extra whipped cream?” she asked.

“There are a few things that I do know about you, Agent Prentiss.”

***

Hotch wanted to take the scenic route home and that suited the driver just fine. Emily would do a figure eight, through Alexandria, Arlington, and back to DC. She cruised at 65 MPH and the cooler temperatures felt good on his skin. He held on, looking at everything around him. It was almost sinful to have to stop for red lights. When they finally got back to his place Hotch didn’t know how long he had the smile on his face.

“Home sweet home.” Emily turned off the engine, kicking out the stand.

“Damn, that was a good ride, Prentiss.”

“I don’t want to brag but…”

“Oh go ahead; I want to hear it.”

Emily laughed, pulling her helmet off. She looked at Hotch and laughed some more.

“I could tell you some stories.” She said. “You might not look at me the same way again.”

“It could be about time for me to look at you in a different way, Pren…Emily.”

Her laughter faded and a thoughtful look came over her pretty face. She didn’t speak, almost turned away, but her brown eyes stayed focused on his hazel.

“Do you want to come in?” Hotch asked.

“Just don’t say it’s for coffee, Hotch, I have enough caffeine in my system to keep me up all night.”

“Funny you should mention that…I've got enough Cukor to do the same.”

“I love Cukor.” Emily smiled again, pulling at her bottom lip with her teeth.

Hotch held out his hand, his dimples coming out of their hiding place. That was something else he knew about Emily Prentiss.

“Did you know in Norse mythology that the Valkyries were beautiful women who led chosen warriors to the Valhalla?” he asked.

“Yes, it was the hall of the slain. They were also written about as lovers of heroes and other mere mortals.” Emily added.

“Take my hand Emily.”

She did, dismounting the bike and letting Hotch take the lead. It wasn’t mythology…it was finally real.

***


End file.
